


who's hand do you hold?

by Amlovelies



Series: Chargestep Prompt Pieces [1]
Category: Fallen Hero Series - Malin Rydén
Genre: Angst, F/F, Masks, Retribution Spoilers, Slow Dancing, chargestep - Freeform, julia ortega/cynthia basri, set post demo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:48:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28202634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amlovelies/pseuds/Amlovelies
Summary: So even if she greets you at the door with a kiss, and casually calls you ‘mi amor,’ you still feel in control. If it’s a lie, it’s a comforting one. It’s one that lets you have this moment, because if you were honest with yourself you would stay as far away from Ortega as possible.Well, you’re lying to everyone else, what can it hurt to lie to yourself too.In which Julia tries to teach Cynthia how to dance.
Relationships: Julia Ortega/Sidestep
Series: Chargestep Prompt Pieces [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2133453
Kudos: 6





	who's hand do you hold?

**Author's Note:**

> written for a prompt request on tumblr

You’re not sure how you ended up in this situation. It’s all Ortega’s fault, as it always is. As you look at the wide smile breaking across her face you have to think she planned this. She looks too pleased with herself, too delighted.

It had started innocently enough. An invitation for coffee and brunch, chilaquiles. Something she knows you used to love. Something she knew you wouldn’t resist. At least she hasn’t caught on that you don’t need any extra incentive. The draw of her is more than enough to make you break all your own rules.

You convince yourself it’s safe enough. That it’ll be easier in the daylight. Reality can’t hide in the harsh light of the Los Diablos summer. You’re so used to moving unseen in the shadows, it feels strange to be afraid of the night. You had promised yourself it wouldn’t happen again; you wouldn’t allow yourself to pretend, to spend long moments in her arms. To let her kiss you and tell you the sweetest lies.

It’s easier in the daytime when that feels impossible. When even the expensive blackout curtains can’t completely stop the light from seeping underneath. Not much, but enough to illuminate the sickening orange marking you for what you are.

So even if she greets you at the door with a kiss, and casually calls you ‘mi amor,’ you still feel in control. If it’s a lie, it’s a comforting one. It’s one that lets you have this moment, because if you were honest with yourself you would stay as far away from Ortega as possible.

Well, you’re lying to everyone else, what can it hurt to lie to yourself too.

She tries to convince you to join her for another of the lavish fundraisers and events the elite of this city can’t seem to resist, and somehow the topic of dancing comes up.

“I don’t know why you’d think that would tempt me; I don’t know how to dance.”

“I could always teach you.”

She won’t take no for an answer, typical Ortega. You end up in the center of her living room, music floating through the space she’s cleared. One hand is at the small of your back pressing you forward until there is almost no space between your bodies.

She smells like a storm. The crackling promise of ozone burning with the lightning and the dark rich loam of the earth beneath. Her hand clasps yours and you can feel where the port presses into your palm.

She doesn’t know that she has Retribution at her mercy right now, that she holds her enemy so delicately. If she knew would she hesitate? Or would she pour everything she had into you? How would you even know? There’s nothing but static and your instinct to warn you, and you already know you can’t trust yourself around her.

Her hand gives yours a small squeeze, “don’t worry. I promise not to step on your toes--much.”

You chuckle, glad for the reprieve from your thoughts. A day will come when you will have to face Charge again, but that day Is not today. Today it’s just Julia and Cynthia, and if Cynthia is just another one of your masks, so be it. If any of them could be real she would be the one you’d choose.

Julia leads Cynthia around the room, humming in time to the music and smiling, always smiling. Her eyes are bright and warm and never seem to leave yours. Dancing is not so different from fighting, and for all your protestations otherwise you know this is something you could do. Especially in her arms.

The song changes to something softer, and she pulls you closer. Pressed together, you let your head rest on her shoulder. You’re not really dancing anymore just swaying in place while the song plays on. The singer speaking of love and loss.

You close your eyes and give in. Just until the song is over. You let yourself pretend that this could be real. And if Ortega feels the tears that slide down your face drip onto her shoulder, she doesn’t say anything, but just presses a kiss to the top of your head.

Oh, if things were different, Cynthia would let Ortega dress her up and drag her to every event she liked. If there was no Farm. If there weren’t any secrets between them. Maybe even if you’d been able to walk away from heartbreak.

But Cynthia is dead, and eventually Ortega will figure out she is only dancing with a ghost.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr @amlovelies
> 
> comments make my day :)


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